


Be My Shelter. I'll Be Your Storm.

by itsbeautiful



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Domestic Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hannibal is amused, M/M, Puppy Piles, Snowed In, Will Sulks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-25
Updated: 2017-01-25
Packaged: 2018-09-19 19:49:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9457928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsbeautiful/pseuds/itsbeautiful
Summary: Will was covered in sleet and snow. And there may have been gravel in his left boot at some point. And what had he found for his trouble? Twigs. His reckoning was going to be ice cold feet and hands shoved beneath a cherry red cable knit sweater. He would hold that Norman Rockwell painting of a man on the floor if he had to. And then set his tablet on fire to warm up. It seemed fair. Just, even.





	

“It’s cold as balls!”

Hannibal glanced from his tablet as the front door to the cabin shuddered open. He was about to question the accuracy of such a statement when powdery snow fell from the rickety awning above. And right on top of a woolen capped head. He closed his mouth with a click of teeth. For the sake of his health, the question seemed better off delayed. Or put off indefinitely. Flashing blue eyes narrowed, lifting to glower at a single dripping curl. Will kicked the door shut with equal force and let an armful of logs tumble to floor. The wind howled outside with laughter.

Will pointed across the room, growling, “Not a fucking word.”

The older man cleared his throat and returned to study the low battery symbol on his tablet. He fought against a smirk trying to twist on his lips. He had told Will three times in the last half hour they had plenty of warmth without additional firewood. Though to be fair, the pipes hadn’t frozen yet and the knocking radiator had drown out his argument about as loudly as Will had. Was now an appropriate time to broach their new predicament? He flicked a finger across the screen and considered briefly. No, he wasn’t quite ready for a follow up lecture based primarily around _I told you so_ and _it’s your turn to freeze your ass off in the woods, not mine._

Hannibal shrugged deeper in a cashmere blanket and watched from the safety of its warmth. Will dragged off boots and stalked across the room, floorboards reverberating frustration. The puppy, Cephie, took off first, tripping over her long ears and skidding around the corner to hide behind the couch. Persephone glowered down her thin snout with indifference before trotting off and sitting with her back facing them both. Winston opened one eye, snorted, and nestled against his resting place beside the iron cast stove. The younger man crouched down and lifted gloved hands to a dwindling fire to warm them.

“Do you intend to sulk the rest of the evening? Or would you like to join me?”

A thin lipped scowl tipped over a snowy shoulder. “Keep it up. I am going to throw you in a snow drift and leave you there.”

“I keep telling you, Will, it is far too frigid to make snow angels at this time of night.” 

*

Will rocked forward, glowering at embers spitting beyond the grate. If he listened to Hannibal, he would still be on the couch, warm and comfortable. With the unfortunate outcome of them freezing to death in the middle of the night. He just knew if tried to argue this exact point, the older man would counter with some obscure scientific fact or philosophical notion about human body warmth. He glared over his shoulder again just to emphasize his displeasure. Hannibal simply offered a cozy smile over a cup of tea, stretching like a sleepy cat. He, on the other hand, was wearing three pairs of socks and still couldn’t feel his toes. Will was covered in sleet and snow. And there may have been gravel in his left boot at some point. And what had he found for his trouble? Twigs. His reckoning was going to be ice cold feet and hands shoved beneath a cherry red cable knit sweater. He would hold that Norman Rockwell painting of a man on the floor if he had to. And then set his tablet on fire to warm up. It seemed fair. Just, even.

“Will…” A sun kissed thumb dragged over frown lines. “You are mumbling vehement threats to inanimate objects again, darling. Should I be concerned for their safety? Or my own?”

Will had every intention of wrestling Hannibal to the floor and needling every inch of his perfect gold skin with icy digits. He really did. A reckoning, was a reckoning, and he couldn’t just break such a sacred vow. Except Hannibal was leaning over him with a firelight smile, blanket in one hand and a mug of black coffee in the other, and melting the snow on his forehead with a gentle kiss. Somewhere between being peeled out of his puffy vest and wool button down jacket, he became distracted by how warm his hands were and how soft lines creased on arced cheeks with each smile. Then he wasn’t exactly certain what he had been mad about in the first place. It was forgotten completely when Hannibal sat on the floor, dragged Will between his knees, and enveloped them in soothing cashmere.

Lips rumbled against his ear. “Welcome home.” 

* 

The blue steel enameled mug sat abandoned on its rightful place on the floor. Twigs crackled in the fire, warmth wafting over the figures curled around one another beneath a dove colored blanket below. Winston turned in a precise circle before resuming his place above chaos of pillows stolen from the couch, resting a snout in a halo of curls. Cephie was snuggled in the crook of two pairs of loving arms and snorting with delight at her luck in a deep sleep. The midnight black greyhound was begrudgingly draped over her master’s cherry knit torso, nose tipped in the air in case anyone was to wake and mistake her intentions. She had not wanted to lie there. There was simply no room anywhere else in the cabin to rest.  

“Will?”

“Yes, Hannibal?” A sleepy voice replied.

“Is the option to slumber in the snow bank still available?” Lips quirked against the nape of a neck. “I believe I might have a better chance at maintaining circulation and breathing.”

Hannibal jolted as an elbow connected with his stomach, pile of dogs scattering beneath wheezing laughter. Will rolled over, glaring at him beneath the blanket, all piercing blue eyes and face covered in shadow. His very own exquisite monster to hide beneath his bed. He wasn’t at all surprised to find it bite back when he leaned in for a kiss. Red blossomed from his throat to the stretched neckline of his sweater pulled down his chest. He managed to stop laughing by the time arms and legs coiled around his torso and flattened him to the floor. He slung arms around a waist when the younger man tried to storm off and kept him there, blinking content slowly.

“Thought we were suffocating you,” Will grumbled, digging his chin vindictively against a collarbone, cold nose following.

“There is no possible way I can answer appropriately without losing my tongue,” Hannibal noted, brow rising slightly with amusement.

With a grunt, the boy flopped over his chest and buried cold hands beneath shoulder blades. The angora sweater would be stretched to utter ruin. Hannibal couldn’t care less.

“You just want an extra blanket. I see how it is. Have to do everything myself.”

“And you a bed, I see. I could carry you to ours if you would allow it?”

“No.” Blue eyes closed defiantly. “I like the one I have.”

“Not too creaky with age and rust just yet for your liking?” He nosed against curls, sighing against the scent of evergreen and fresh fallen snow.

“No…” Arms squeezed lightly. “Though…” Will lifted his head slightly, peering into honeyed eyes beyond. “The one I have seems to talk too much. And I really prefer my furniture to remain inanimate.”

A crooked nose scrunched slightly. “Are you absolutely certain?”

“What do I look like? Belle from Beauty and the Beast?” 

Hannibal rolled Will beneath him, dragging fingertips over flushed cheeks and a pink mouth with a glint of teeth. “Well, now that you draw the comparison…”

The younger man blushed brighter still and thumped a hand against his chest, scowling. “I hate you.” He pulled Hannibal against him, squeezing ribs shaking with laughter in hopes to cut off oxygen. “Be a good blanket and shut the fuck up, would you? One of us wants to sleep.”

The older man turned his face against a throat, kissing a slowing pulse. “Very well.”

Fingers slid through his hair softly, dragging heavy eyelids with it. He felt lips curve against his forehead with a sigh. Warmth enveloped him. Will held a little tighter as he began to drift, dark edges of sleep pulling at his frame. As he began to fall, he was fairly certain he heard snow whispering through fallen branches.

“I love you, Hannibal.”

**Author's Note:**

> Prompted by the ever talented slashyrogue on Tumblr during a winter storm when my heat was out for several days. A quick drabble to stave off the chill in my tundra of an apartment. (I like getting prompts! Send me some if you like. xo)
> 
> See original posting here: http://hallofmybeginnings.tumblr.com/post/154528747204/thank-you-to-darling-and-talented-slashyrogue-for
> 
> The Fire x Ben Howard
> 
> Lie here till your world stops spinning round  
> Lie near me till the birds start singing out  
> Come, show what it is to be warm  
> Be my shelter and I'll be your storm.


End file.
